


Intense

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mostly Fluff, because flustered Ambrose is best for business, huge dudes being nervous around their crush trope, unnamed ofc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Dean has his sights set on someone.
[x-posted to Tumblr, as always]Enjoy!





	

Dean had forgotten where he’d read the phrase that was currently stuck in his head, much to his chagrin. It wasn’t exactly an _appropriate_ thing to be thinking about while you tried to muster up the guts to talk to the woman you had a crush on.

 

He tried to smooth his curls down, grunting when they just sprang back up. Across the hall, she laughed at something Nikki said, tucking a lock of her hair back behind her ear. Oh _God_ , what Dean would give to be the one to do that. He shot a silent prayer of thanks to anyone listening that he was at least a decently tough guy in every _other_ area of his life.

 

Seth had been talking at him for a good five minutes, rattling on and on about his new crossfit regiment that was kicking his ass. Dean already knew he was a terrible person, he figured ignoring the talkative man beside him was probably not that high on the list of 'Things Dean Ambrose Is Going To Hell For’. “Rollins, I’ll catch up with you.” he finally said curtly, getting to his feet and clenching his fists inside the sleeves of his hoodie. “Gotta’ take care of somethin’.”

 

Seth followed his line of sight, a cackle bursting out of him. “ _Her_ , man? I think you’re a little outclassed by essentially everyone else in here.” He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe Dean had the _audacity_ to think he could want someone like her. “No offense or anything Dean, but be fucking reasonable!”

 

Dean cringed at every word out of Rollins’ mouth, wishing he could disappear. Seth meant well but his voice was so _fucking_ loud all the time. He had turned back to the other man, gnawing on his index knuckle and mentally begging Rollins to _stop_ _talking_ _oh my God please_ -

 

A hand wound through the crook of his elbow, gently pulling his battered knuckle away from his teeth.

 

“Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear-”

 

“Understatement of the damn _century_.” Dean huffed before his brain caught up. That was her hand on his arm. That was…her cheek rested against his right shoulder.

 

“I’m going to assume you didn’t tell him yet, huh? I can understand that. You want to keep it on the down low so you don’t get harassed.” Nikki was on the left side of him. Dean was flanked by two beautiful women and had never been so horrified in his life. He had _no_ idea what was going on and he really wanted to disappear right about now.

 

“You’re being kind of _mean_ , Seth.” Nikki continued, “I don’t know if you’re disappointed that you don’t have Dean to yourself anymore or what, but I wish you’d fix your attitude.” she scolded.

 

“B-but I wasn’t--what?” Seth stammered, “He’s not dating _her!_ ” He paused, chewing on his lower lip for a second. “Are you?! Man, have you been holding out on me?”

 

“They’ve been going out for a week or so, right Dean?” Nikki elbowed him in the ribs. Dean nodded automatically, making the woman on his right giggle quietly.

 

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? I don’t buy it.”

 

“It doesn't really matter whether you do or not.” Dean's crush said icily.

 

Ambrose felt his heart flutter in his chest. _She's standing up for me? Against_ _ **Seth?**_ _Oh wow_.

 

“Dean, c'mon. We're going to be late.” She was tugging on his arm. Dean willingly allowed himself to be pulled along, out of the catering area and down the hallway. His mind was a frantic swirl of panic and he was pretty sure his face was about to melt off from the heat of his blush.

 

“I uh. Thanks.” he mumbled when she released him, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

 

She huffed in annoyance. “God, he's a jerk. Does he say stuff like that to you all the time?”

 

“Keeps me humble.” Dean muttered, “Y-you look really nice today.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Really uh...I like that shirt. On you. And stuff.” She looked up at him, all soft edges and kissable, so fucking kissable with that look of confusion on her face. God, _God_ he was so fucked. “I’m just gonna’ go now.”

 

“Wait! Aren’t you going to ask me out? I’ve been sitting in there for almost fifteen minutes!” He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but she almost sounded... _sad?_

 

Dean stopped dead. “You…what?”

 

“I thought you were trying to ask me out! I figured…I figured if I hung out in there with Nikki long enough you’d come over and talk to me.” She crossed her arms, seeming a little embarrassed. “Unless I totally misunderstood the situation? In that case my bad?”

 

“I…uh.” Dean’s brain decided that now was the time to unplug and head out for the afternoon. “I…I mean, yes, yeah.”

 

“Oh my gosh, I was right?” She sounded absolutely thrilled. “You wanted to ask me out! Oh wow, how cool is that?”

 

_Not cool, not cool at all. As a matter of fact it feels like it’s around seven hundred degrees in here. HELP._ “Yeah. Um. Would you? Uh, want to go out, that is.” he finally managed to say, fighting the urge to tug at the collar of his hoodie. “I totally understand if…I mean, I know how I am so like. I get it if you don’t want to? I just. Uh. Figured I’d put it out there.”

 

“Are you kidding me? I’m _thrilled!_ Hell yeah!” she replied, throwing her arms around him. If Dean wasn’t bright red before, he _definitely_ was now.

 

But he did it. He _did it!_ She even put her number into his phone before she had to head off for the night, _and_ she kissed his cheek! _He did it!_

 

His phone went off a few minutes after she left, and Dean couldn’t help the dumb smile that spread across his face when he read her text.

 

- _see you Saturday, Dean!_

 

Ambrose thrust his phone at Seth’s eyes when he returned to their room, Seth going almost purple with shock. “B-but you’re…” Rollins blustered for a while, until he finally admitted that he was proud of Dean. “Shit man, you finally did it!” he laughed, dragging the lighter-haired man in for a headlock. “Big brother’s all grown up! I can’t believe you kept it a secret, though. I’d have been jumping down your throat if I got a girl that looked that cute.”

 

“Yeah well, I ain’t you Rollins.” Dean grunted, fighting free of the other man’s affectionate stranglehold.

 

“So what happens Saturday?” Rollins asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

_Shit_. “Not sure yet.” Dean admitted.

 

Seth patted the bed beside him, throwing an arm around Dean’s shoulders once he sat down. “Lucky for you, my dude, I am _full_ of great date ideas!”

 

…

 

This was a _terrible_ idea. Ambrose wished he’d realized that Rollins’ suggestions were always a bit hit or miss.

 

_Why didn’t I listen to Reigns?! A nice dinner would have been perfect. This…I’m going to look like an_ _ **ass**_.

 

Dean strode up to the counter with a confidence he didn't feel, slapping down a twenty. “Two for the mini golf,” he growled, mentally daring the teenager behind the desk to say something. He could deal with aggressive confrontations better than…whatever the hell _this_ was going to be.

 

To his disappointment all the kid did was take his money, hand him his change with the par card and gesture towards the rack of clubs. “Make sure the both of you take different colored balls. Otherwise it’ll be hard to keep track.” the kid warned, making Dean grunt. He wasn’t goddamn _stupid_.

 

A hand touched his own as he went to grab a putter and he jerked away, startled. It was just his date though, and thankfully she laughed instead of asking what the fuck his problem was. “Mini golf, huh? I haven’t played since I was a teenager.” she said, running her fingers over the handles of the putters.

 

“I know, isn’t it lame. Holy shit.” Dean was absolutely _in way over his head_ , eyes fixed on his sneakers and palms sweaty on the handle of his club. “K-kid stuff, right?”

 

She made an annoyed sound at him. “No way! Mini golf is _awesome_. I know you don’t actually think it’s lame, otherwise why would you want to do it with me?”

 

“I want to do a lot of stuff with y--” Dean slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. _That did not just fucking happen, oh God, she must think I'm a total creep_.

 

She playfully nudged his shoulder on her way to pick out her ball. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“Yeah, uh. Of course not. That'd be weird.” Dean mumbled, confused when she bit her lower lip. But all she did was beckon him to follow her onto the course.

 

“So. When I was younger, me and my friends would play mini golf eighteen questions. It’s basically twenty questions. Whoever has the lowest par on the hole gets to ask the question. Interested in playing a game?” she asked, winking at him as she put her ball down and prepared to swing.

 

Ambrose was certain that she may be out to kill him. That look she shot him had _no_ _business_ settling in his bones like it did, making him feel like his t-shirt was strangling him. “I uh. N-normally I’m more into strip mini golf, but sure, I’ll play.” _Oh my God,_ _ **what**_ _did I just say?!_ Dean tried his hardest to look like he wasn’t panicking, but no, wait, she was laughing.

 

“Strip mini golf? Now I’ve heard it all.” she chuckled, tugging him down so she could kiss his cheek. “Forget it, it was a dumb idea anyhow.”

 

“No!” Ambrose protested, “I-I want to play, let’s play.” _What the hell did I get myself into here?_

 

The way she lit up after he agreed made it almost worthwhile, even if he was probably going to end up answering most of the questions tonight. He may or may not be absolutely _abysmal_ at mini golf.

 

“Question one,” she began loftily after he wrote down the par for the first hole, “what’s your favorite animal?”

 

“Dog.” Dean said curtly. He figured if he kept his answers short, maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself. _Who the hell am I kidding, I'm fucked_.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why are they your favorite?”

 

“Hey, that’s another question.”

 

“Just humor me, you _fussbudget_.”

 

“My uh. My first p-pet was a dog. I love dogs, they’re great. I love how their noses are always going and stuff. The way they kinda' smile sometimes, too. Um, I also like how they're super tough and loyal and uh...yeah.” Dean realized he was rambling like an idiot and quickly looked down, rubbing a hand across his stubble.

 

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, laughing when he sputtered. “So you like dogs. Your first pet was a dog. That’s two things I didn’t know before that I do now.”

 

“Do I get a free question? Y'know, since you got one?” Ambrose asked as they meandered to the second hole and she set up.

 

“Sure, what the heck,” she shrugged, “ask away.”

 

Dean meant to ask what her favorite flavor of ice cream was, even if what he _really_ wanted to ask was why the _hell_ she had agreed to this date. Instead, what came out was, “Why's your ice cream favorite, date me?” in a word-vomit mess of a question. “I uh. I mean, um. Fuck. _Fuck_. I meant-” he stammered, barely resisting the urge to yank on his own hair in frustration. She was looking at him like he had three heads and he went silent, the only noise the sound of his putter knocking against his ankle over and over in a nervous gesture.

 

Her brow furrowed like she was thinking hard, then her eyes widened. “What's my favorite flavor of ice cream, or why did I want to date you?”

 

_Wow, she's good_ .

 

He nodded helplessly, sitting down on a bench and hiding his face in his hands. “The ice cream one.” he mumbled through his fingers. “I get all fucked up sometimes, m' sorry. Stuff comes out wrong.”

 

“Hey.” Gentle fingers landed on his shoulder. “You get that I _already_ like you, right? I promise I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. You can relax.” She rubbed his shoulder in a calming, circular motion. “I'm nervous too, you know. Why do you think I'm talking so much?”

 

“Seriously?” Dean asked, raising his head. He wasn't sure if he could handle her lying to him. She looked pretty sincere though. Shit, she looked pretty in general. “I didn't think...I mean, I can usually beat damn near anybody in an 'unnecessarily nervous' contest.”

 

She giggled, the happy sound strengthening his resolve. He stood up, brushing off the knees of his jeans. “Can we uh, start this over? Hi, I'm Dean. I'm scared as hell and I mix up my words. And you are?” Dean held up his hand before she could speak, “whipping my ass at this game of mini golf, obviously.”

 

“See? You've got jokes! You're funny. What the heck were you worried about?” she asked, leaning on her club as Dean whacked away at the astro turf.

 

He shrugged, his shaggy hair falling in his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Damn I'm bad at this shit.” he admitted after missing his fourth swing in a row. “Just ask your question. I'm busy wearing a stripe in the ground.”

 

“Okay, I have to think of a good one.” She tapped her lips meditatively. Dean tried to fight back the flush he could feel creeping up his neck, tried to stay focused on what the hell he was _supposed_ to be doing instead of that fucking _phrase_ or the idea of him sliding his own fingers over her lips--

 

“What's your favorite dessert?”

 

“I'm not really a fan of...I mean, apple pie isn't uh. Isn't too bad.” he said, fishing his ball out of the hole. She took his hand on the way to the third hole, her thumb stroking over his knuckles. Stopping his blush was clearly a losing battle at this point, so Dean took a chance and leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek.

 

On hole three, he managed to keep himself together long enough to pull off a par five to her par six. She pouted, but answered his question anyway. “Blue eyes are my favorite. Either blue or gray. They're always very striking, you know?”

 

“What, _intense_ or some shit?” Ambrose noted with interest that she went bright red when he said that.

 

“Y-yeah, intense is a good word.” she replied, tucking her hands into her sweatshirt. Dean shoved the hair out of his face, fixing her with what he liked to refer to as ' _the lunatic look_ '. The one he usually saved for hard matches where he had to reach deep down and find that last ounce of strength to win. She swallowed hard after a few seconds too long, breaking eye contact and fumbling with her putter. “Uh, we should...probably keep going.”

 

Ambrose grinned to himself at the way her eyes flicked down to his lips before she turned and started down the path again.

 

Hole four saw her taking a _decidedly_ different turn with the questions. “Boxers or briefs?” she asked, smirking like she expected him to chicken out.

 

Dean always aimed to surprise though. “Neither.”

 

The _sound_ she made at his response was downright ridiculous, somewhere between a cough and a gasp. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled free, daring to wrap an arm around her shoulders on their way to the next hole. _This is sure as shit shaping up to be an interesting night_.

 

…

 

She'd been dropped off by one of the other women from the roster, so Dean offered to give her a ride back to the hotel at the end of their date. She dragged him down for a proper kiss before he headed off down the hall to his room, one that left Ambrose breathless and bright red. “Text me?” she asked softly, smiling when he nodded. “Have a good night, okay?”

 

Dean felt like he was walking on clouds, that stupid smile cemented on his face. _I went on a date with her! She likes me! Holy shit!_

 

“Whoa, look at the grin on _this_ motherfucker!” Seth cheered when Dean opened the door, holding out his hand for a fistbump. “I take it the evening went well?”

 

“Yeah. I...thanks for the suggestion, man. It was great. She loved it.” Ambrose knew he was acting weird but he couldn't really seem to help it.

 

“See? And _you_ doubted me!” Rollins chided, “My date ideas are _awesome_ , c'mon.”

 

“Hey, weren't _you_ the one who thought taking that straight-edge chick on a tour of the local bar scene was a great idea? One victory doesn't equal greatness, asshole.” Dean shot back, snorting when Rollins visibly deflated.

 

“Alright, okay. But still! I'm glad that _this_ idea worked. Better?”

 

“Better.”

 

…

 

Dean knew someday his hands would probably stop shaking whenever they were together. He knew that maybe he would get over the way his stomach dropped out, shit _maybe_ he'd even stop blushing. That day seemed far away now though, as he stood in front of her hotel room door with a bouquet of flowers.

 

He'd done his best for this date. It marked their one month anniversary and he wanted it to be a little more fancy. Shit, he'd worn his best pair of black jeans and Reigns had actually coaxed his hair into some semblance of order for him.

 

All he had to do now was knock.

 

It wasn't like she didn't know he was coming. He'd texted her two hours ago. All he had to do was _fucking knock_.

 

_Just knock, you pussy!_ He scowled at himself, rapping his knuckles lightly on the door. It opened almost instantly. _Oh. Shit._ Dean couldn't help the noise he made, doing his best to camouflage it with a cough. She looked amazing, she looked incredible, she looked...

 

She looked fucking _delicious_.

 

Thank _fuck_ he had his own room on this rotation of the tour.

 

“Look at _you_.” Her voice was breathless, making Ambrose raise an eyebrow. “You sure clean up nice, don't you?” she continued, blushing and thanking him when he gave her the bouquet.

 

Dinner was...it was nice. Like actually, legitimately _nice_. Granted, Dean still tripped over his words and made an ass of himself at least four times, but he was okay with it this time around. Because she was sitting across from him, laughing at whatever dumb word mush came out of him and making him feel more like he was funny instead of fucking _hopeless_.

 

She slid her finger through the chocolate sauce on her plate from her dessert and reached across the table to touch his lips. Dean opened his mouth automatically, sucking the chocolate off her fingertip with ease. He didn't care how hot his blush was now. All he cared about was the fact that she was obviously interested, _obviously_ , she wouldn't be playing with his mouth if she wasn't, right?

 

She went a little pink but didn't back down, choosing to smile at him instead. Her eyes promised trouble that Dean was all too ready for, and he made the bold choice to stand. “You uh. You want to get out of here?” he asked quietly, thrilled when she nodded and took his hand.

 

...

 

“It's kinda' been a while for me.” Dean admitted, fidgeting nervously as the door closed behind him. “I um...I mean...”

 

She kissed him hard, pinning him to the door. “I don't care.” she breathed. “Whatever you want, you've got it.”

 

_Oh_. Dean dropped to his knees, undoing the zipper on her skirt and tugging it down over her hips.

 

No words for him to fuck up when he did this. Just her, _her_ , with her fingers running through his hair and her mouth falling open in a silent plea, legs shaking when Dean pressed a soft kiss to her thigh. She rolled against him, little helpless noises bubbling out of her as he sloppily tongued over her slit.

 

“Dean please-“ She managed to get out, tugging on his hair and sending a jolt through his body. “I can’t wait, please, please-“

 

He groaned, looking up at her while he gently rubbed his thumb over her clit and pulled back for a second. There had been this phrase in his mind for _quite_ a while when it came to her, and this seemed as good a time as any to try it out. “Didn’t you know?” he asked quietly, making her tilt her head to the side in confusion. Her whole body was shaking under his touch, thighs shivering with every brush of his hand.

 

“Didn’t I know what?” she asked finally.

 

Dean grinned. _Yes_. “Good girls get _special_ kisses.” he snarled, diving back in to prove his point by messily kissing her clit and then mouthing over her pussy.

 

“Oh…oh my _God_ -” she gasped, her back arching and pressing her even harder to his mouth.

 

Dean took advantage of the situation, ravaging her with his tongue. His hands tightened on the back of her thighs as her legs buckled. She whimpered over him and her fingers shakily dragged through his hair, now thoroughly mussed. “Oh my God Dean, Jesus…” she sighed once she'd stopped shaking, a startled sound escaping her when Dean lunged to his feet and cupped her face to kiss her hard.

 

He didn’t care that his hands were still trembling on her skin, he didn’t care that his chin was coated with proof of her arousal, he didn’t care that his jaw twinged in pain-pleasure from muscles gone unused for too long. All that mattered at this point was the way she curled up against his chest, kissing him like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

 

“Please,” she was saying, her fingers fighting with the button on his jeans. Ambrose scooped her up before she could finish the job, striding to lay her on the hotel bed.

 

“Shirt.” Dean growled, flushing when she thrust her chest up at him instead.

 

“Do it for me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Dean groaned in reply, his hands clumsy on the tiny, slippery buttons. He was pretty sure this constituted some kind of torture.

 

“ _There_.” He finally got all of them undone, breathing a sigh of relief afterwards. It was short-lived as she writhed underneath him, deliciously bra-less and flushed.

 

“Dean.” she begged, and Ambrose nodded.

 

“I know. I’ve got what you need _right_ here.” he whispered hoarsely, stunned not only by the bold words coming out of his mouth, but by the way she reacted to them. She rolled her hips up against him like she couldn’t help it, whimpering loud, so loud. She was begging for him. She _wanted_ him.

 

Dean dragged his thumb across her lower lip, undoing his jeans with his other hand. “I’ve got _exactly_ what you need.” His fingers wrapped around her throat for a second and she bucked upwards. “Oh?” Dean raised an eyebrow, pressing down a little harder and feeling her quake. “ _Oh_.” It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him and he stood up on the bed, tugging his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring free.

 

She sat up, her mouth on him before he could move. Ambrose cried out, almost losing his footing as she traced the vein on the underside of his cock with her tongue and then pulled away with a smirk. “Jesus,” he panted, sinking to his knees. “You’re good at that.”

 

“You’re not too bad yourself.” she teased, laying back propped up on her elbows. “If your mouth is what good girls get, I think I’m going to be a _very_ good girl for the foreseeable future.”

 

Dean was pretty sure his face had gone a shade of red unseen by man, but he shoved past it to cover her body with his own. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her fiercely, her hands tugging at his shirt. “Take it off.” she breathed, making a noise of disappointment when he shook his head.

 

“It's uh...I'm a little...well, y'know.” Ambrose mumbled, pulling at the hem of his shirt. “It's a little iffy under there.”

 

“Why the _hell_ would I...” She trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Oh. _Oh_. Nah, nope, get it off. I'll rip it off you if I have to.”

 

“What, why?” Dean asked in confusion. Normally, whoever he hooked up with was okay with him keeping his shirt on. His back and torso were all fucked with scars, ugly lines dug into his skin and raised marks from staples and stitches. He knew he looked a little... _Frankenstein's Monster_ -esque. “It's scary, you'll hate it. And no offense, but uh, I kinda' had my heart set on getting off tonight.” he tried to joke, yelping when she jerked his shirt up and over his back. “H-hey!”

 

“Shush. I want to see you. All of you.” she scolded him, and he went still.

 

_ I want to see you _ .

 

_Really?_

 

The hope surging through his body kept him from moving as she worked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Dean closed his eyes, flinching when her fingers touched his bare skin. “You're perfect.” she murmured, her hand slowly making its way down his chest, over his taut stomach to stroke his cock. “Now, fuck me.”

 

Ambrose didn't need to be told twice, burying his face in her neck and surging forward into her. She keened, one hand carding through his hair and the other running down his back. Tears blurred Dean's eyes momentarily as he listened to her sounds of ecstasy, felt her fingers mapping out his scars with no hesitation. She wasn't scared of him. She wanted him. She  _ wanted _ him, even with his fucked-up body and his inability to speak around her and his stupid,  _ stupid _ nerves. 

 

_ Wow _ .

 

Dean panted against her neck, loving the way she crooned and arched up into him begging for more. This part he could do. No talking on his end, just noises and motion and  _ good more so good _ . He wished this could go on forever. The gentle burn of her nails digging into his back, an area he'd thought long dead, or full of nothing but shorted-out, twitchy nerves and bad memories. The press of her breasts against his chest, the way her body shifted with every excited breath she took. 

 

Her voice, her  _ voice _ in his ear, whispering praise and telling him how good he felt, how good he was doing,  _ good good good _ . Ambrose had never considered himself good before, but the way she repeated it made it seem like an ironclad truth. She wouldn't lie to him. 

 

His fingers caressed her throat and he felt her swallow. Dean tightened his grip, raising his head to make eye contact with her. Her eyes were wide, but not afraid. She parted her lips as she stared up at him, little noises escaping. Dean groaned and she trembled, her walls clenching around his cock. “This okay?” he rasped, terrified of hurting her. She nodded as best as she could, smiling up at him. Her fingers covered his own and squeezed them even tighter.

 

_ Holy shit _ . He could feel her body struggling for breath, his cock throbbing inside her as she shifted. But she still gripped his hand, forcing him to keep up the pressure. Dean quickened his pace and she opened her mouth in a silent cry, hips rocking up to meet his own as she sought her pleasure along with him.

 

“Come for me, come for me.” Ambrose begged, his voice cracking as he came. Wave after wave of his orgasm rushed over him, like it would never end. His pelvis crushed into the cradle of her hips even while he came down, as if his body still longed for her. “Please come for me, fuck's sake, _please_ -”

 

She arched up under him and Ambrose groaned as he felt the tell-tale spasm of her pussy around him. “ _ Fuck _ , yes.” he sighed, relieved when she let him release her throat. “Are you okay? Holy shit. That was, uh...”

 

“Intense?” she gasped, throwing an arm over her eyes as she shuddered all over. “ _Oh_ God. Wow. _Wow_.” 

 

Ambrose brushed the hair back from her forehead, worriedly tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left on her neck. They weren't bruises  _ he hoped _ , they should fade in a couple of minutes. 

 

“Remind me...to be good...around you.” she panted, gracing him with a _blinding_ smile. 

 

Dean pressed a kiss to her throat, mumbling out his fear against her skin. “Thought I hurt you.”

 

“I was in control. Trust me, I know you would never hurt me.” She bit her lip, dragging her fingernails lightly up the skin of his back. Dean shivered at the sensation and she giggled. “Oh also, I want to impose a 'no shirts while I'm around' rule.”

 

“What?!” Ambrose exclaimed, flustered once again.

 

“Okay _fine_. If you're shirtless, I have to be too. I guess that's fair.”

 

“ _What?!_ ”

 

“I like how you look. Without. Your shirt on.” she said slowly, over-enunciating every word. “I would like the trend to continue. If you're willing, of course. And it doesn't have to be like...all the time or anything. I just...I like how you look. Shirtless.” She traced her fingers down over the scars on his shoulders. “You look like a badass. You look like you've been through _everything_ and yet, you're still here. Smoking hot.”

 

“That's uh...that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Usually I kinda' just...s-stay all covered up.” Dean gestured at his torso. “Um. Thank you.”

 

She kissed him softly, smiling up at him afterwards. “You don't need to hide around me, Dean. I like you.  _ All _ of you. Okay?”

 

Dean felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest, and he couldn't help smiling back. He didn't even care how dumb his dimples looked, or how much his hands were shaking. “Okay.”

 


End file.
